


Snuggling is the official™ best coping mechanism

by denyingmyselfalways



Series: How Tony Stark accidentally became a dad [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Death by fluff, Everyone's soft, Gen, Nighmares, Overprotective Tony, Peter cares about Tony, Peter is basically Tony's son, Some angst, The Avengers care about Tony, Tony Feels, Tony has no idea how to take care of himself, anxiousness, don't ship please :b, lots of fluff, or function like a normal human, or sleep, overprotective Avengers, snuggles, snuggling!Avengers, totally platonic snuggling btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-29 22:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denyingmyselfalways/pseuds/denyingmyselfalways
Summary: Tony was coping with Peter’s previous kidnapping the way he usually did: waking up at three in the morning from nightmares, drinking a butt-load of coffee, and working in his lab for hours on endAnd the Avengers noticed.But no one really knew what to do about it. The only people he vaguely listened to were Rhodey and Steve. Okay, that’s not true, he listened to Peter.Which is were the snuggling came in.Rhodey noticed that Tony listened to Peter. He told Nat, who had also noticed, who in turn, told Steve. And so, they conspired and came up with plan: make-Tony-realize-he’s-being-an-idiot-and-learn-to-take-care-of-himself.





	1. Subtle

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to: Hikari_Tatsu_TheElementalistWolf for suggesting a lot of the stuff that I used in this series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You must read at least the two previous fics in this series to make much sense. I hope I didn't screw it up! ENJOY!
> 
> If I haven't used your suggestion, that doesn't mean I won't, so you'll have to wait and see I guess.

Peter was coping. He had nightmares, and panic attacks, and flashbacks, but he had people and so it was okay. He had his aunt, and his girlfriend, and Tony, and Ned, and Nat, and Uncle Rhodey, and all the other Avengers – which was still super surreal to say that he had the Avengers in his corner.

And so, he was getting better. His favorite pastime was snuggling, which Aunt May loved, and MJ claimed she hated (she loved it), and Tony needed.

About Tony. Tony was _not_ coping. I mean, when did he ever really cope well? Both Peter and Tony had been through a lot, which no one needed convincing about, but Peter had always had his aunt. Tony didn’t have one constant. Rhodey was _amazing_ , but Rhodey was a peer. And sometimes you need support from someone that isn’t your best friend.

And Tony never really got that.

So, Tony was coping with Peter’s previous kidnapping the way he usually did: waking up at three in the morning from nightmares, drinking a buttload of coffee, and working in his lab for hours on end. Which, I probably don’t need to point out, is a terrible way to cope.

And the Avengers noticed. (Except for Scott, because Scott is oblivious)

But no one really knew what to do about it. They told him to go back to bed, but he didn’t listen. They told him to drink water, but he didn’t listen. They told him to socialize with other people, but he didn’t listen. The only people he vaguely listened to were Rhodey and Steve.

Okay, that’s not true, he listened to Peter.

Which is were the snuggling came in.

Rhodey noticed that Tony listened to Peter. He told Nat, who had also noticed, who in turn, told Steve. And so, they conspired and came up with _plan: make-Tony-realize-he’s-being-an-idiot-and-learn-to-take-care-of-himself._

 

Step 1: Tell Peter.

“Hey, little Spider, what are you working on?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “My senior thesis. You’d think being kidnapped and tortured would make them be a _little_ more lenient on the schoolwork front, but _no_ they just said ‘welcome back from mysteriously disappearing for a week. Here’s the work you missed. By the way, what’s with all those stitches?’ No one even asked where I was. I mean, Ned and MJ already knew, but _still_. I was gone for a week.”

Nat smirked, patting the spot next to her on the sofa. “Do you need help?”

Peter slumped in relief, practically melting off the bench he was sitting on and walking over to the living area. “Yes, yes, yes, yes _thank you.”_

He slid in next to her, and they both assumed the ‘snuggling-with-Peter-position’ that a couple different Avengers (read: Nat, Wanda, Rhodey, and Tony [when he thought Peter was asleep]) had assumed: his shoulder tucked into their armpit, one arm around his shoulders, other hand in his curls, his head on their chest. He explained what his thesis was about, and how he wanted his essay to go, and they discussed different options for a while, getting snarky comments from Steve – who was sitting on a chair to their right – every once in a while.

Peter was surprised how sarcastic Cap could be.

Rhodey walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge, grabbing an extra soda and tossed it in Peter’s general direction, who webbed it into his hands and popped it open.

When he looked up, Steve was staring at him.

“What?”

Steve just smirked and shook his head.

“So, Peter, talked to Tony lately?” Rhodey asked.

“Yeah, why?” Peter asked, confused. He talked to Tony all the time. Why would Rhodey be questioning that?

Nat sighed, putting Peter’s papers on the table as Rhodey walked over with his own soda.

“Have you noticed anything about him?”

Peter blinked. He may have been suspicious if Rhodey hadn’t been asking, but Rhodey was, so he just shrugged. “Maybe more tired.”

Steve leaned forward. “Exactly. Why do you think that might be?”

Peter shrugged again. “Not sleeping enough?”

“Exactly,” Rhodey repeated, sitting on the table across from him.

Peter felt a teensy bit overwhelmed. Why were they talking about Tony? Did he do something wrong? Did _Peter_ do something wrong? Was he getting kicked out? Was Tony beginning to realize that he wasn’t enough of a help to keep around? Was Tony ever going to talk to him again? Would he get to keep the suit? Surely, even if Tony disowned him, he’d be able to keep the suit, right? At least the normal Spider suit, if not the Iron one. Or maybe Tony would force him to start wearing the homemade one again. But what did that have to do about him sleeping?

“And why do you think that Tony isn’t sleeping?” Nat asked.

Peter said nothing, still internally freaking out.

“Nightmares.”

Peter’s heart sank. “Why is he having nightmares? Is it because of me? Am I getting kicked out, because if it helps Mr. Stark, I mean, I’d _do_ it, but I really want to stay, you know? I’ll try not to get kidnapped again. That was kinda crappy of me. I can be a help, you know. Sometimes Tony likes my suggestions. I think. Or maybe he’s just saying that to make me feel better. Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault… what?”

The three Avengers were staring at him like he was crazy.

“I never thought I’d _ever_ say this, but you, sir, have a worse guilt complex than Tony Stark,” Rhodey said, glancing at Cap who nodded.

“Kid, it’s nothing like that. Yes, he’s getting nightmares about your kidnapping, but none of that was your fault. In fact, you leaving is an absolutely terrible idea. We want you to help him, not _leave_.”

Peter blinked, relieved. “Oh.”

“We want you to… get him to open up,” said Nat, running a hand through Peter’s hair.

Peter let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think I’m the right person for the job, I-”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Kid, you got Bucky to trust you within the first few minutes of meeting you. Believe me when I tell you he absolutely hates trusting people, and you somehow managed it. You mean more to Tony than you do to Buck. If _anyone_ can do it, it’s you.”

Peter sputtered. “But- what about…” Peter gestured at Rhodey who smiled sadly.

“He’s been saying no to me for years, Pete. Usually, I can force him to take care of himself by guilt-tripping him, but this time it’s _because_ of guilt. My words can only go so far.”

Peter sighed, looking around the room as if looking for a way to get out of this. “But, I’m just… me! What can I do to get him to open up?”

“But that’s the point. You are you, and _that’s_ why he opened up to you in the first place. Just be… _you_. He doesn’t love you because of Spider-Man. He doesn’t love you because you’re smart. He loves you because you’re Peter,” said Steve, standing. “And as for what you can do actions-wise… what did you do for us?”

“Talk,” Peter said immediately, “And snuggle,” he muttered, quieter.

Natasha laughed. “What was that my little Spider?”

Peter just buried his face in her shoulder.

Rhodey chuckled. “I’m sure you can work your magic, Pete. Just try to be subtle.”

Peter pulled away from Nat. “Uncle Rhodes, subtle is my middle name.”

He grinned as they rolled their eyes at him.

“Alright, Peter Subtle Parker. It seems you have work to do,” he said to himself.

 

Step 2: Talk to Tony… subtly

“Hey, kid, what are you doing down here?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s been a while since I, you know, _actually interned_. It’s probably a good idea to do what people actually think I’m doing, otherwise if they ask me about it, I’ll have to stutter through a fake answer.”

Tony blinked, suspicious. “What do you want to work on?”

Peter looked sheepish. “I wanted to look at Thor’s belt?”

Tony groaned. “Who told you about that! Was it Happy? Because I specifically told him-”

“Come _on_ , Tony. You never let me see _anything_ Thor related! Is it because you’re jealous that he’s the strongest Avenger?”

Tony threw him a pointed look. “That’s Bruce. Or Wanda. Or-”

“Thor?”

“Alright, you can work with me, and _maybe_ I’ll show you eventually, but not today.”

Peter huffed. “Fine. What are you working on, anyway.”

“Something for Quill.”

Peter didn’t have to fake his excitement. He loved the Guardians of the Galaxy. “Oooooooo, what is it?”

“Well, since he insists on wearing that nasty Ravager crap or whatever it’s called, I decided I’d work with the Wakandan princess and weave some vibranium into it. It’ll keep him more protected and stuff. Since he _also_ insists on only using long-range weapons. At least Gamora’s got her sword, but no. Quill has to have guns and only guns. Idiot.” Tony said, looking back at his work, Peter jumped over the desk in between them, making Tony flinch. “Don’t do that. It freaks me out.”

Peter cocked his head. “Why?”

“Cause I never expect it.”

Peter laughed, going back to the subject of weapons. “You only use blasters.”

“Yeah, but I have armor.”

“Ah.”

Tony pressed a few buttons on his computer, then looked up at Peter. “Well? Can you sew?”

“No.”

Tony glared at him. “Well, then you’ll be no help. I can’t either.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Rhodey can. And Steve. And Bucky, I think.”

Tony sighed. “I don’t like them in my lab.” He pulled Starlord’s coat off his workstation and walked it upstairs. “Come on, then. If you’re going to insist on following me around.”

“Why am I allowed in your lab, then?”

“Because you know how most stuff works.”

They reached the top of the stairs, were Steve, Nat, and Rhodey were still sitting, drinking different beverages (Nat: tea, Rhodey: pop, and Steve: a mocha frappe chino) and chilling.

Tony froze at the top of the stairs. “Any of you want to sew for me? Neither of us knows how to sew.”

Steve laughed, standing. “The two smartest men in this building and neither of you know how to sew.”

Tony and Peter glanced at each other and just shrugged.

Steve just beckoned for Tony to hand him the jacked and the thread before examining it. “Is this vibranium?”

“Yeah, something for Quill.”

“Ah. Worried about your new space friends?” Nat asked, sipping her tea.

“Well they’re the only space friends any of us have, so I’m trying to keep them alive.”

“In other words, you’ve stressed about it,” Rhodey said knowingly.

Tony shrugged, throwing both hands in the air like the drama queen he is. “What can I say?”

“You stress?” Peter asked.

The others tried to hide their smiles at Peter’s obliviousness, but Rhodey just barked a laugh. “Why do you think your suit has so many protocols, kid. He _stresses_.”

Peter blinked. “Oh.”

Tony sighed. “Alright, enough ragging on me. Imma get a coffee,” he said making to walk towards the coffee machine sitting on the counter.

“No, you’re not,” Steve said, sitting back down in his chair and getting comfortable with the jacket and thread. “I grabbed the last cup.” He nodded at his frappe chino.

Tony froze halfway to his destination, blinking at it. “Seriously? You took the last of the perfectly good coffee and contaminated it with that sugar crap? I’m disowning you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, puncturing the jacket’s inner, lighter fabric with the needle. “Maybe I’m disowning you for being able to drink that bitterness all by itself.”

Tony huffed. “Too late, I disowned you… first.”

Peter’s head whipped to Tony, who was massaging one temple and pointedly staring at the coffee machine.

The others seemed to notice Tony’s hesitation, and they seemed to pause, concerned. Tony turned around, his forced smile resembling more of a grimace. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Steve just shook his head, “Nope.”

The billionaire sighed, waving at his protégé. “Come on Pete. Let’s head back down. Got some other stuff I’ll sic you on. Maybe… be productive.”

Peter nodded, still scanning the room for what could have made Tony go back. His eyes lingered on the needle and thread in Steve’s hands. Tony had once told him his mother had taught him how to sew. So why had Tony said he couldn’t? Peter frowned as he let Tony lead him away. When he’d returned from being kidnapped, there hadn’t been many doctors around. The Avengers hadn’t completely organized themselves into the headquarters in preparation for another attack, assuming there wouldn’t be one in a while due to the death of Thanos. So, when Peter had gone to the med bay, the only _real_ doctor who’d been there to restitch him had been Bruce. They’d put him under before he could really check his surroundings, but he could vaguely remember them beginning to pull out his stitches. Two sets of hands. Bruce’s and… someone else.

Peter stared at Tony’s back as they made their way downstairs.

“One second Mr. Stark, I… left something upstairs.”

“What? Your juice boxes? Cause I have a stash down here if you-”

“No, it’s… my school work, I wanted to ask you a question on it, I’ll be right back.” Peter ran halfway up the stairs before pausing. “And they’re not juice boxes!”

The only response he got was a too-loud-to-be-fake laugh that warmed Peter’s insides.

He bolted the rest of the way up, scrambling into the living room to a surprised Nat, Steve, and Rhodey.

“What, kid? Did Tony blow something up?” Steve asked, not looking up from his sewing.

“No, no…” Peter huffed catching his breath. “Um… who… who went into the room with Bruce?”

They all frowned at him.

“Who went with Bruce to help heal me after I came back?”

Rhodey frowned. “Tony. He insisted. You know, being overprotective and stuff.”

Peter deflated, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t because of that.”

Nat cocked her head at him. “Why?”

“Tony told me he knows how to sew a long time ago. His mother taught him.” Peter said, walking over to his school things and grabbed them from the floor.

Steve’s hands froze, and he looked at Peter. “Then why am I doing this?”

“Because he’s not coping. _He helped Bruce pull me apart and put me back together._ ”

Rhodey’s shoulders slumped. “That’s why he asked you to. Ten bucks says he was just sitting down there staring at the needle and thread for at least an hour before you showed up. Gosh, I’m such an idiot.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I should have known.”

Peter shook his head. “You couldn’t have. Just… make sure not to sew in front of him,” he said to Steve, who looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

Step 3: Snuggling

Peter shouldered his backpack and bounded down the stairs. “Mr. Stark?”

“Still here Footy Pajamas.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have a suit made of nanotechnology. Can we drop the PJ nicknames please?”

Tony chuckled, swiping his work to a different monitor with one hand and typing with the other. “Whatever you say, Spandex.”

“That’s not better.” Peter dropped his crap on the floor and unzipped it. “Kay, here’s the equation that I- wait. Oh, nevermind. I already did it. I’m so stupid.”

Tony barked a laugh. “Stupid. That’s a good one.”

“I’m blushing.”

Tony looked glanced in Peter direction, opening his mouth to retort, catching himself when Peter wasn’t there. “Peter?!”

“Up here, Mr. Stark.”

His gaze went up to his kid sitting on the ceiling, flipping through pages of his homework. He breathed. “Wow, you actually _are_ blushing.”

“No Mr. Stark, that was called sarcasm. This,” he said, gesturing at himself with his free hand, “is all the blood rushing to my face.”

Tony huffed. “That can’t be good for you.”

“Yeah well neither is not sleeping, but you seem to be doing just fine.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

Peter glared at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Um… I _sleep_.”

“Yes, and I can’t hang from the ceiling.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Tone down the sarcasm, kid. I’m getting too old for this.”

“Stop dodging the judgment.”

“And shouldn’t the old judge the young?”

“Mr. Stark, old people have dull senses, how can they judge the young if they can’t even see them?”

Tony just looked at Peter, who had this cocky little grin on his face.

“Especially old people who don’t sleep.”

Tony sighed. “Kid get off the ceiling.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Now _that’s_ very mature of you. FRIDAY get him off the ceiling.”

The ceiling tile that Peter was sitting on dropped, the young spider-ling with it.

“Ow.”

It then disintegrated, leaving Peter behind.

“Sorry, Mr. Parker.” FRIDAY’s sterile voice echoed through the room.

“Mr. Stark?”

“What kid?” asked Tony, who’d gone back to doing his work. He growled as the words _protocol: failed_ basked his face in red light.

“Do you think we can, I don’t know, finish the Flash?” Peter grunted, rolling onto his back

Tony smirked for a moment before his earlier scowl reappeared as the protocol failed a second time. “Is that why you came down here? Cause you wanna finish your show, but you feel bad about leaving me?”

“No,” he stood and brushed the dust off his pants.

“Yes, it is.”

 _“No, I swear._ I just wanted to… I don’t know…” Peter scuffed his shoe on the cement floor before bending down to gather up his things.

“Pete, what did I say about starting thoughts and not finishing them?” Tony asked, trying a few more combinations with the same results. “I mean seriously, you do it all the time. It’s like finish you’re-”

“Spend time with you.”

Tony’s fingers froze for half a second. “Ah.”

Peter panicked. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that is _totally_ okay with me. It’s not like I don’t have anything to do, what with finals coming up and all. You know what, I really should be studying right now. See ya, Mr. Stark!”

“No, no, no, no!” Tony sounded almost desperate. He whirled to face Peter. “If you wanna watch it. Yeah. That’s fine. Um. Like you said, I’m not gonna finish this anytime soon. Might as well procrastinate some more.”

Peter swallowed, trying not to grin like an idiot. “Right. Yup.”

“If you fail finals…”

Peter allowed himself a small grin. “Just come _on_ Mr. Stark.”

When they made their way upstairs, Steve was gone, probably to his room to finish sewing.

Peter saw Tony visibly relax at the lack of needle and thread but ignored it. “We’re watching the Flash, are you guys gonna join?”

Nat’s smile mirrored Peter’s. “Of course.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “I suppose if I have to.”

Peter laughed. “You know you love it.”

Tony shrugged. “I was dragged here against my will as well.”

His intern stuck out his tongue. “Lies from the pit of destruction. FRIDAY turn on our next episode of the Flash.”

“Right away Mr. Parker,” she replied, and the TV emerged from the wall.

Tony and Peter made their way to the couch, where Natasha would usually offer to snuggle with Peter, but this time she didn’t, choosing only to wink at him when Tony wasn’t looking.

 _Be subtle, be subtle, be subtle,_ Peter inwardly chanted the entire time they were watching the episode. At first, he just sat near him, scooting closer and closer until he was pressed against Tony’s side. Tony said nothing, only wrapped one arm around Peter and tugged him closer. As Peter laughed too hard at one of Cisco’s pop culture references, Tony strung one hand through Peter’s hair.

And they had assumed the ‘snuggling with Peter position’. Subtly.

Peter lay his head against Tony’s chest. It was a little different with each Avenger. With Wanda, it was sweet, like they were snuggling just because they felt like it. With Rhodey, it was comforting, because Rhodey seemed to strangely understand him (disclaimer: it’s because Peter is a lot like Tony). With Nat, he felt protected, like nothing could hurt him.

But Tony… it was like all of that combined.

They relaxed into each other, and were both out by the third episode, pulling comfort from each other’s warmth.

Nat and Rhodey glanced at each other and smirked.

“FRIDAY, take a photo.”

“Already done, Colonel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please inform me if something seems ooc, and I'm sorry if Peter comes across as totally good from his kidnapping (he's not. you'll see more of him struggling to cope next chapter).


	2. Not-so-subtle

Peter was never good at falling asleep. His heightened senses caused him to be able to hear the neighbors two floors down in his and May’s apartment. Eventually, he got semi-used to it and it became white noise, but on days when his brain wouldn’t leave him alone, the sounds and subtle movements felt as if someone had isolated each of them, amped them up to 1000, and pressed play on his eyes and ears.

Tonight was one of those nights. It was spring break, his aunt was taking a much-needed vacation, (paid by Tony, who’d insisted) and Peter was at the compound.

It didn’t help that it was raining. The constant drumming of the water slamming into the roof made him want to clap his hands over his ears and scream. But he couldn’t do that, because there were others in the building.

Lightning flashed outside his window, and Peter tensed. He _hated_ electricity. He toyed with the idea of praying to Thor to see if it would stop, but Peter doubted the god was listening. He wondered if they even heard prayers or if that was a myth.

The lightning flashed again. Peter slammed his eyes shut, but he could still see it through his eyelids. He hated lightning. He hated electricity. He hated the memory of that _maniac_ slamming a taser into the side of his head. He squeezed his eyes tighter, but his head still remembered the pain, and, as if thinking about it had brought the pain back, his head began to ache.

 _Side note: Getting a migraine while already having heightened senses_ and _while having an almost sensory overload is_ not fun.

He didn’t even know he was crying until he felt a tear drip onto his hand.

“Mr. Parker are you alright?” FRIDAY’s sterile voice crashed into him like a wave, shoving him under while concurrently yanking him up.

He whimpered. Too loud. Everything was too loud. His bedsheets were too tight, like the cuffs and ropes that bound him, like the building that held him down.

“Your heart rate is elevated above the normal rate; would you like me to inform Mr. Stark?”

Peter was shaking, trying to get out the words, but all he managed was a strangled “NO-!” Then, he rolled off his bed, landing on the floor with a muffled thump.

“I do believe that notifying Mr. Stark is the best course of action.”

“Wait…” Peter gasped, his entire body tensing in remembrance of the electricity coursing through his muscles. Justin’s rabid smile. The metal digging into his wrists. Being sliced open and healed back and sliced open over and over. His body still hadn’t completely healed some of the scars. “I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll go to him.” He grabbed onto the edge of the bed and pulled himself up, blindly stumbling towards his door.

He made it to the hallway before he keeled over, his stomach flipping. He gagged, but nothing came out and he had enough functioning brain cells to be thankful that he didn’t get vomit all over Tony’s carpet. And then he wasn’t being cut open, but disintegrating into dust, flakes on the wind with no more purpose than to crumble into even smaller pieces.

FRIDAY’s voice yanked his pieces from the air and reassembled him, and he slammed back into the dark hallway. “Mr. Parker, if you do not make it to Mr. Stark’s room in the next minute, I will be forced to notify him.”

“I know, I know. Give me a second.” Peter murmured, jumping as lightning flashed again. He got to Tony’s doorway, but the steady breathing from within caused him to hesitate. Tony rarely got good sleep. Who was Peter to disturb the one time he did?

“Mr. Parker.”

Peter sighed, his heart rate steadying to match Tony’s as he listened. “I’ll just go back to bed, it’s fine, FRIDAY.”

“If you go back to bed I will not only notify Mr. Stark but the entirety of the compound.”

Peter blinked, affronted. “Why would you do that?!”

“To dissuade you from going back to bed.”

Peter sighed. “FRIDAY, why’d you have to be so human-like.”

FRIDAY hesitated for a moment, seemingly processing the question. “I am me-like, I think. If there were human-like attributes that I have attained since being created, I hope they are helpful and not getting in the way of helping Mr. Stark.”

Peter frowned. “If I wake up Mr. Stark now, wouldn’t that be harming him?”

“I understand that Mr. Stark does not get as much sleep as the average human, but considering the context, I do believe that his emotional health is more important at the moment. I also understand that you are stalling.”

Peter’s shoulder’s slumped, but the thunder pounding in his ears caused them to tense again. “Well, what if I just stood here? Would you wake up the compound then?”

FRIDAY was silent for a while, and he wondered if he confused her, but when she responded, she didn’t answer his question.

“Mr. Stark is currently having a night terror. I cannot seem to get him to wake.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he shot into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Mr. Stark?”

But Mr. Stark was still. The only concerning thing about the situation at all was how nothing seemed at all concerning. “FRIDAY?”

The only response was the clicking of the lock on the door behind him.

He whirled, trying the lock, but sure enough, he couldn’t budge it. And it’s not like he wanted to tear Mr. Stark’s door off its hinges. “FRIDAY!” Peter hissed, freezing when Tony shifted in his bed.

“Pete?”

Peter bit back a curse, turning to see Tony sitting up. “Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“What-?”

“I’m really sorry, I couldn’t sleep and the lightning was freaking me out, and then FRIDAY said she was going to wake you up about it, so I told her I’d go to you, but then I realized it was stupid to wake you up about this when you so rarely get good sleep, so I stood in the hallway for a minute, but then FRIDAY threatened to wake the whole compound if I went back to bed, so I stood there for a little longer and _then_ she told me you were having a night terror, so I rushed in, but then she locked the door, and I’m so sorry for disturbing you, can you just tell FRIDAY to-”

“Peter!”

Peter clicked his mouth shut, watching as Tony scooted to one side of the bed.

“Come here, kid.”

Peter melted with relief, embarrassed by how much he needed Tony, but not enough to stop himself from bolting to the bed and sliding in beside him. And for the first time that night he fully relaxed, laying his head on Tony’s chest and listening to the (mostly) steady heartbeat of his mentor (read: father-figure).

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Tony asked, and Peter tensed up at the memory, but the calloused fingers combing through his hair pulled the tautness from his spine, his muscles.

“The lightning,” Peter murmured, wincing at the childishness of it. What teenager needed to run to their parent because of lightning? “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I should probably-”

_“Peter.”_

“Right.” Peter pulled himself closer to Tony, his breathing steadying with each drag of Tony’s fingers across his scalp. He sighed.

Lightning flashed. His body went tight as he watched it – almost in slow-motion – zig-zag from the darkened sky to the vulnerable ground. From clouds to grass. From metal to skin.

He slammed his eyes shut.

Tony hummed a little, his other hand beginning to draw little circles on his back. He was making letters, but Peter’s adrenaline was too erratic for him to recognize them. The thunder seemed to crack his skull when it exploded into existence. He whimpered.

“FRIDAY, close the blinds. Go full Hulk.”

The blinds seemed to close without hands, and the pattering of the rain dulled to almost nothing. Peter wondered what full Hulk meant, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to ask. Now that the lights and sounds were dimmed, his adrenaline vanished, leaving him drained.

“Any other reason you weren’t sleeping?”

Peter shrugged passionlessly. “Just too many memories, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

Comfortable silence.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really?”

“Let’s rephrase that. Tell me about it.” Tony nudged him with his elbow.

Peter grunted, frustrated. “I just don’t like lightning much anymore. It was really loud and… it’s electricity so… yeah.”

Tony hummed in recognition.

Peter wanted to ask if it was weird that they were snuggling, or that Tony was willing to soothe him back to sleep, but he felt like if he brought it up, the moment would shatter and then he’d never be allowed to touch Mr. Stark again.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Peter shrugged. That was really the last thing he remembered before he finally drifted to sleep in the safety of Tony’s warmth.

When he awoke the next morning, Tony was gone, probably off doing something in the lab, or some SI work for Pepper. Maybe even training. Light was streaming through the window and he sat up groaning. “FRIDAY, what time is it?”

“It is 11:47 Mr. Parker.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “I slept that long?!”

FRIDAY didn’t respond as he flung off the covers and rushed to the door, which was thankfully no longer locked. He almost ran into Sam in the hallway, but he brushed off Peter’s rushed apology with a grin. “Off to cause havoc?”

“Always!” Peter called behind his shoulder, bolting to the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now that he was completely awake, his stomach felt like it was about to explode out of hunger.

Thankfully Bucky, Scott, Tony, and Wanda were already in the kitchen, the metal-armed soldier in front of the stove, the others sitting on bar stools and conversing.

“Look who’s finally up!” Wanda said, smiling. “We were just having a discussion about what we think Bucky’s preparing for us this time. I wanted to help, but he insisted to do it alone.”

Bucky snorted, turning around with a pot full of angel-hair pasta. There was a homemade chili on top, with meat, and beans, and corn, and about a dozen different spices that Peter couldn’t hope to name. “Steve askes to ‘help’ all the time too, but it never comes out quite right when I’m not doing it by myself.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose at him, but the look didn’t last long as she took in the sight of the meal that Bucky set down on the counter. “That looks amazing.”

“Tastes pretty good too,” Bucky retorted, untying his apron that read ‘this is what a cool mom looks like’.

Scott grabbed the spoon and held it up as if expecting to be fought for it. “I was closest. I said pasta.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Everyone knew it was pasta. We saw him put it in.”

Scott frowned, deflating. “Oh. Right.”

The spoon was whisked from Scott’s hand by red wind and Wanda snatched it from the air, grinning away Scott’s protests and spooned some into her bowl. She did the same for Peter, who couldn’t wait to get food in his bottomless pit of a stomach.

“Be careful,” Bucky said. “It’s a little spicy.”

“We like spicy,” Tony said, grabbing some for himself.

“We do?” Scott asked, but everyone ignored him.

“Mmmmmm.” Wanda moaned in appreciation as the warmth of the chili seeped into her bones. “How’d you learn to cook like this?”

Bucky laughed, grabbing the spoon after Scott had finished and plopping some in his own bowl. “Steve was a terrible cook back in the day, and his parents couldn’t always be around cause of how pressing their work was, so I had to babysit him. He’d get so cold in the winter with no fat on those bones of his, I’d always feel miserable and make him something warm. Like chili.”

Peter giggled. “I could never imagine skinny Steve.”

Bucky grinned. “You better believe it. He was lankier than you.”

They fell into comfortable silence, the only sounds the occasional hum of contentment or Scott’s grunts whenever the water wasn’t enough to quench the heat of the chili.

Wanda asked him how he slept.

Tony stared down at his bowl of half-eaten food, but Peter could see him trying to fight a smile.

“Really well actually.”

“No nightmares?” Bucky asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Peter blinked, frowning. “Now that I think about it, no. I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you slept alright,” Wanda said, planting a kiss on Peter’s temple and getting up to clean her bowl.

Peter grinned. “Not alright. Fantastic.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony lose the battle with the smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW full Hulk is like Bruce Banner's settings when he's stressed or panicky, no sound or light or anything like that.
> 
> And Tony was writing 'love you' on Peter's back. :3 If anyone was wondering.


	3. The exact opposite of anything even resembling subtle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the span of this fic is like a week or so at most, just in case you were wondering.

Peter slammed his head into the table, groaning.

“What’s up, Shortstack?”

“Hooooomework,” Peter groaned. “I hate high school.”

Sam smirked, grabbing a mug from the dirty dish pile and dunking it in the soapy water. “Everyone hates it, but things get put into perspective once life hits you.”

“Life _has_ hit me. Upside the head.” Peter murmured into the table’s cold surface “I think my last two brain cells are tired of arguing with each other.”

Sam chuckled, wiping the inside of the mug with a rag. “If you want, you can help me finish these dishes. Might help to give your ‘last two brain cells’ a break from each other.”

Peter heaved a sigh, sliding off the bench and trudging over to the kitchen area, where Sam was washing the dishes. “You know we _do_ have a dishwasher for a reason, Penguin.”

“It’s Falcon and forgive me if I don’t just blindly trust everything that Tony concocts, unlike you.” Sam retorted playfully, giving Peter a nudge with his shoulder. If it hadn’t been for Peter’s strength, he probably would’ve stumbled. As it was, he didn’t move at all.

“It’s a _dishwasher_ , Flamingo. It’s not going to kill you.” Peter said, grabbing a plate and submerging it in the water.

“Excuse me, _cockroach_ , but he put a chaos button on the microwave!”

“That’s for self-defense! And if you’re going to use nicknames, at least make it Spider-related.”

“You called me flamingo!”

“Flamingos are freaking majestic, thank you very much! No one wants to be called a cockroach!”

“Penguins aren’t majestic!”

“Agree to disagree.”

Sam huffed a laugh and snatched the plate out of Peter’s hands to dry it. “How’s he doing anyways?”

Peter didn’t have to ask who Sam was talking about. “Better. We’re… getting better. It’s hard some nights, but…” he shrugged, grabbing a bowl. “We’re getting better.”

Sam nodded. “I bet the snuggling helps.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, _please_. It’s no secret who you go to when you have nightmares.”

Peter flushed. “It’s weird.”

Sam shrugged. “It is a little weird. But we’re the Avengers. We’ve got the weirdest PTSD situations ever. Of course, our coping mechanisms will be a bit strange. Besides, it’s cute. And it’s not like snuggling is foreign to you. You do it with everyone.”

Peter gave Sam a side-look. “Feeling left out?”

Sam barked a laugh. “Not even a little bit. But I think Buck is.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up, but then his expression shifted to skepticism. “No, he doesn’t. You’re making that up.”

Sam shrugged. “Believe what you want.”

Peter stuck out his tongue. “Don’t worry about that, I will.”

They washed in silence for a while, scrubbing, and drying, and thinking. About ten dishes later, Peter pipes up. “But is he really?”

Sam laughed. “Pete, would I ever lie to you?”

Peter swiveled to look at him with the sassiest amount of deadpanned-ness. “Yes.”

Sam snorted. He nabbed the plate from Peter’s hands and continued drying. “He never _told_ me that. I just notice things.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“He _does_.”

Peter sighed. “Okay, but if it’s weird, it’s on you.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s gonna be weird anyway.”

Peter wrinkled his nose, reaching for a mug. “I tried to be subtle about it.”

The soldier laughed. “Spider-kid, you are the exact opposite of anything even _resembling_ subtle.”

Peter huffed, but that only served to make Sam laugh again.

“It’s okay though,” he said, reaching over to ruffle the kid’s curls. “It’s endearing.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be subtle.”

Sam just shook his head. “If it had been even _slightly_ subtler, Tony may not have figured it out. He’s the kind of person that needs to be smacked in the face with affection before he realizes what it is.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay, though. It’s kinda nice.”

“Kid,” he nudged him with his hip, and this time Peter gave him the satisfaction of stumbling a bit, “that’s my _point_.”

 

 _Screams._ Screams were the only thing he heard, the only thing that mattered. The worst part was, he _recognized_ them.

The voices never said anything, they just screamed, and screamed, and _split his skull wide open._

His mother.

His father.

Rhodey.

Pepper.

Happy.

Steve.

Bruce.

Thor.

Nat.

Clint.

Wanda.

Vision.

Stephen.

He heard all of them. But he’d never actually heard those people scream in real life, at least not outright. So, it was easy to close himself off from them. It was easier to force himself to believe that they weren’t real. That they’d never be real.

But the last one.

The last one _always_ hit him like the stale air of space, like the shield to his chest, like the metal plunging itself into his side.

 _Peter. Peter. Peter._ That was one scream that was not produced by his brain. That was one scream he’d heard before, echoing underneath the Cheshire-smile of Justin Hammer.

Even in his dreams, he shook like a half-fallen leaf. Even in his nightmares he curled up in on himself and _sobbed._

But even those sobs didn’t drown out the sound piercing his eardrums. This time, this particular voice _did_ speak. “Mr. Stark, please. _Please. PLEASE. I don’t want to go, sir, I don’t- not the electricity not again-!”_

Peter’s voice was cut off as the sound of electricity crackled into existence and the voice no longer spoke words. It was almost like the songs he and Peter played, a morbid crevice in the back of his brain thought, a symphony of choked out words and screams, all with an underlying melody of sizzling electricity.

He decided it was a small mercy that all he saw was darkness. He did not have to witness the twisting pain contorting Peter’s features.

_“PLEASE!”_

_“DAD!”_

Tony shot up. His heart pounded. Sweat made its way down his forehead. Tony tried to remember how to breathe.

He was shaking still.

The darkness calmed him somehow, and each moment his eyes spent adjusting, his heartbeat slowed a bit more.

Something was wrong. Tony looked at the clock. 3:41. Where was Peter?

He must have voiced his question out loud, or perhaps his AI had evolved enough to understand where his train of thought went as soon as he’d awoken.

“Peter is asleep in his room. It seems that no nightmares have plagued him tonight,” her voice came in through the speakers in the walls.

“Right,” Tony murmured. “Thanks, Fri.” He stared at the side of his bed where Pepper normally slept. Unfortunately, she was on a business trip for SI, and wouldn’t get back for another couple of days. But his heart was still racing, and he knew nothing he could do would slow it until he saw Peter alive and in one piece. He stood, pacing quietly to the door, and sliding out into the hallway, hissing as his feet hit the cold tiles.

When he opened Peter’s door, the kid was already sitting up, staring at him like a deer in headlights with those huge brown eyes of his. Curse those stupid Spider-ears.

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony took in a shuddering breath, trying to force a smile that felt like more of a wince. “Just checking up on you, buddy. Go back to sleep.”

But Peter had none of that, scooting over and patting the extra mattress next to him. Tony’s shoulders slumped, letting out the tension he didn’t know they had.

He’d never thought he’d be the one going to Peter for comfort, but here they were.

He climbed in next to his kid, and Peter immediately slid up right next to his side, tucking himself into Tony, like they’d been created to fill in each other’s hollow spaces. His heartrate lessened.

Peter lay his head on Tony’s beating heart. “I _do_ have super hearing you know.”

Tony huffed, crumpling Peter’s bedsheet in his fist. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Peter sniffed. “Your heartbeat woke me up.”

Tony blinked a couple times, trying to wrap his head around that. “Wait, you can… hear my heartbeat from your room?”

Peter nodded against his chest, and the gesture seemed weirdly cute to him. The freezing memories of the lingering nightmare thawed a bit. “I didn’t know if you wanted me or not, though. So, I waited for you.” Peter murmured, pinching the fabric of Tony’s shirt with two fingers.

Tony hummed, staring absentmindedly at Peter’s bookshelf. He forced his brain to succumb to the solidness of Peter’s head and limbs and chest. Peter was not dead. Not dying.  “I wouldn’t have complained if you’d showed up,” he couldn’t help but murmur.

Peter snorted. “I know that _now_.”

Tony shrugged with one shoulder, still not quite cemented in reality. “You should’ve known _then_.”

“Sorry.”

Tony’s consciousness clicked back into place with the hate he had for that word emitting from Peter’s mouth. He swatted his arm. “It’s my fault. Stop apologizing for things that are my fault.”

Peter looked up at him with a smirk. “Well _someone’s_ got to.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enough with the sass. It’s too early for this.”

Peter took in a huge breath, pressing his cheek into Tony’s chest, eyes fluttering shut. “G’night Tony.”

“Oh, it’s Tony now?”

Peter hummed. “Now you’re hearing things, Mr. Stark. You should really get some sleep.”

Tony chuckled, leaning his head back against the pillow, and followed Peter’s example, closing his eyes and letting his exhaustion pull him back under.

 

Sam yanked the last container of Superman ice cream from the freezer. “Who even eats this crap? Come _on_ where’d he put the flour? It’s supposed to go in the _freezer_ how many times do I have to say it to that son of a- FRIDAY, where’s Tony?”

“In Peter’s room, Mr. Wilson, although if it’s the flour you’re looking for, it’s in the cupboard to your right.”

Sam huffed a bit. “Right, I forgot Stark made you all-knowing. Although why he puts the flour in the _cupboard_ beats me.”

“If I remember correctly, his exact words were: ‘No maggots would ever dare get in my flour, Sam. I’m Tony Stark.’”

Sam rolled his eyes, opening the cupboard in question and setting the offending ingredient on the counter with the other ones that he’d accumulated for Bucky who was currently making pancakes. “Yes, I do think I recall… wait, did you say Tony was in Peter’s room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“He had a nightmare last night.”

“Which one?” Bucky asked, concerned.

“Tony.”

Sam frowned. “Not Peter?”

“He hadn’t had a nightmare that night that I know of, no.”

The two soldiers looked at each other, and Sam shrugged.

“Would you like me to wake them up?”

“Yeah, they can help with the pancakes,” Buck said, adding the flour and mixing it in. He nodded at all the ice cream on the other side of the counter. “Clean that up.”

Sam glared at him, but Buck was staring pointedly at the bowl in his hands. He sighed and went to work at the tiers of ice cream covering the countertop. “I thought you didn’t like people helping you cook.”

Bucky smiled a little. “If Stark was finally willing to actually go to Peter’s room instead of wallowing in his misery after his nightmare, I think I can be willing to have some help.”

“How’d you know this wasn’t the first time?” Sam asked. “He could’ve just been lucky up until now and not had any nightmares.”

“He’s got a loud heartbeat. It goes crazy when he gets nightmares and it wakes me up.”

When Sam didn’t say anything, Bucky’s gaze lifted to see Sam giving him the most creeped-out look ever. “Dude, that’s freaky. Don’t just drop super-soldier stuff on me like that and expect me _not_ to be weirded out.”

Bucky smirked a little bit.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Parker and Mr. Stark are approaching the kitchen,” FRIDAYS voice sliced through their back-and-forth almost bickering.

Right on cue, Peter and Tony trudged into the kitchen, both bearing sleepy eyes and ruffled hair. Peter rubbed at one eye. “Why are you guys up so early?”

“Why are _we_ up so early, is the real question,” Tony muttered, making his way over to the coffee machine to wake himself up.

“Ah! Half a cup.” Bucky said, glaring at a disgruntled billionaire.

“Excuse me?” Tony wrinkled his nose. “Who put you in charge?”

Bucky’s glare sharpened, and Tony huffed. “Fine. Half a cup. But I’m getting more later.”

“Getting more later, my ass.”

“Language,” Tony snapped. “There are young ears, here.”

Sam barked a laugh, stuffing the last of the third row of ice cream tubs into the freezer. “Steve rubbing off on you?”

Bucky ignored both of them, turning to Peter, who was looking too tired to really be following the conversation. “Hey, kid, you wanna help?”

It was like the sleepiness was shed and tossed aside like an itchy blanket. Peter’s whole body lit up and he trotted over to Bucky. “Um, yes?”

Bucky waved him over and started instructing Peter on what he needed for the batter. Tony finished making his half cup and walked over to Sam, handing him the last tub of moose tracks, and sitting down at the counter. Sam followed suit and nudged him with an elbow. “So, nightmare?”

Tony half-shrugged. “Yeah. Had to go to Peter to calm down.”

Sam blinked at the blatant admission. “So, are you finally gonna admit that you’re practically his dad?”

“Hey!” Peter sputtered. “I can hear you!”

Tony smirked a little. “Peter don’t interrupt when your father is having a conversation!”

Sam and Bucky snorted at Peter’s half-meltdown of embarrassment. Sam figured Tony would only admit it when it was dripping with sarcasm, but when he raised an eyebrow at the billionaire, Tony just smiled a bit and shrugged.

“What can I say?”

Sam shook his head. “Stark, I’ll never figure you out.”

“Good,” Tony said, reaching across the counter and smoothing down one of Peter’s unruly curls. The kid wrinkled his nose, obviously flustered.

“Stooooooop.”

Bucky laughed. “Kid, if you’d really wanted him to stop, he’d never have started doing it. Besides, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Peter groaned, leaning down to press his forehead into the counter. “This is verbal abuse.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, drama queen. Finish those pancakes. Your old man’s getting hungry.”

Peter huffed, straightening and raising an eyebrow. “Emphasis on _old._ ”

Sam and Bucky grinned, amused at Tony’s insulted expression. “Kid, you’re toeing a line.”

Peter shrugged. “The truth hurts, _dad._ ”

Tony laughed disbelievingly. He grabbed the bag of excess flour from the counter and tossed it on Peter. “FRIDAY,” he called, smirking as Peter struggled, “sprinklers.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” she said, spraying the kitchen in water. Bucky and Sam protested, the former covering the batter, so it couldn’t get wet, but it was Peter who shrieked in terror as the previously dry flour that had enveloped him turned into a sticky paste. The sprinklers sputtered out before the water could start washing it off.

While Bucky tried scolding Tony for almost ruining the soon-to-be pancakes, the other two adults watched in obvious amusement as Peter tried to figure out what to do with himself.

“What… What the actual heck! I- Tony!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Is that what I have to do to get you to call me Tony? Cause if that’s the case – Peter?”

Peter’s expression went from distraught to grinning devilishly at Tony, and before anyone could do anything, he lunged over the counter, careful to avoid the ingredients and batter, and tackled Tony to the ground. Tony was yelling, and Peter was screaming in victory, and Bucky and Sam were _dying_ laughing.

Twenty seconds later, the two stood, both covered in the sticky flour-water paste, one looking completely satisfied in himself, and the other looking miserable.

Bucky made both Tony and Peter shower before either of them could eat his pancakes, because in his words ‘neither of you are dirtying my kitchen’.

They both returned showered and more awake than before, ready for pancakes and enveloped in this odd feeling of _satisfaction_. Nightmares and panic attacks had done their absolute best to drag the two into darkness, and make no mistake, they would still try, but Peter and Tony had each other, and that would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Tony scolded Peter for drowning his pancakes in syrup, and Peter teased Tony for eating his dry, and Tony wondered why being around Peter felt similar to being around Pepper or Rhodey.

Sam and Bucky messed with each other, and Tony laughed when Bucky shoved Sam off his stool, and Bucky wondered if this was what having family was like.

Sam watched everything with one raised eyebrow, and a half-smirk constantly gracing his features, and Sam wondered why everyone was so bad at admitting how much they cared about each other when it was so _painfully_ obvious.

Peter giggled, and got embarrassed, and groaned at Tony’s dad jokes, and missed May, but missing May was okay because he had the Avengers in his corner. And when Tony threw an arm around him and dragged him over to the couch to watch the Flash, Peter remembered when Nat and Rhodey and Steve had sat him down and tried to get Tony to open up.

_Just try to be subtle._

Well, that had kinda failed, he thought.

The conversation the evening before penetrated his thoughts. _He’s the kind of person that needs to be smacked in the face with affection before he realizes what it is._

He listened to Tony’s steady breathing and heartbeat and had to agree with Sam. Perhaps he was the exact opposite of anything resembling subtle, but if it meant Tony was content he’d stand on top of the world and scream about how much Tony meant to him.

But, as Tony pressed a kiss on the top of his head, Peter realized he didn’t have to.

“I love you,” he murmured. He’d said it before when he’d been tortured and half-delirious, but it wasn’t the same. Because then it had been hard-pressed and pulled from him in desperation and fear of losing his life. But now he just said it purely because he meant it.

Tony beamed.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“Never.”

“Even when I’m an adult?”

“Don’t go growing up on me now,” Tony said, teasingly, but Peter heard the underlying fear in his voice.

Peter smiled a little. “I would never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end for this one, I have a couple of ideas for the next one, but suggestions are always welcome. Please note that I might not use yours specifically, it's nothing against you.


End file.
